


Slave Without a Name

by boredbrooder



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Slavery, Starvation, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 06:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredbrooder/pseuds/boredbrooder
Summary: Loki is a slave and here's a snapshot of his day.





	Slave Without a Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ManipLoki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManipLoki/gifts).



He used to be somebody. Now he was nobody. He used to have titles, wealth, power. Now he had misery, pain, anguish. Even the ragged shift he wore had been worn by centuries of slaves before him. It wasn’t his. Neither was his body.

He’d been forced to perform for Master’s guests. They loved giving him conflicting orders to watch the obedience collar punish him. They liked to give him impossible orders to watch his magic force obedience.

“Walk on the ceiling,” one guest would yell. Half way across, the guest would cancel the order so that he fell painfully to the ground. His ribs bruised at the impact on his arm.

“Dance the slide.” “Dance the Tarangula.” Conflicting orders he could not obey at once. Agony coursed through his body as every nerve burned.

When they’d had their fun ridiculing and taunting him like some grotesque living doll, their greed, lust and malice took over. He was forced to lie on his back as they bit and sucked and bruised him. Men and women alike bounced on his rod until it chafed and ached. He was forced to lie on his back. They had whipped him for a while, then ripped up his sphincter for their pleasure. He had taken everything they had shoved in him, because that is what he was for.

Battered, bruised, bloodied, dirtied and used, Master finally ordered him back in his shift before chaining him neck, wrists and ankles. He had no strength to rise or fight or flee. The best he could manage was a few dirty fingers under the strap of the obedience collar. Someone had made it too tight. Although he had lost almost half his body weight since enslavement, he could still be strangled.

He was not allowed to clean himself up this night. There was no food delivered for the third night in a row. He was not granted toilet privileges, either. If there was anything his body wanted to expel, it would be where he lied chained. This was his life now. He used to be somebody. He used to have a name. Now, he was just slave.


End file.
